


call me

by fluffysfics



Series: reconciliation [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bad Flirting, F/M, Fluff, Good Flirting, Post-Episode: Revolution of the Daleks, Reconciliation, the master has heart eyes for the doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28941372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffysfics/pseuds/fluffysfics
Summary: Three months after their last rather chaotic meeting, the Doctor finally gets the courage to give the Master a call.It turns out to be a pretty good decision.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Series: reconciliation [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2122683
Comments: 7
Kudos: 72





	call me

The Doctor toys with her mobile phone, staring at it as though it might bite. There’s a crack on the screen- she tells people it happened when she fell down that mineshaft on Kanrock with Ryan, but it actually happened after she hurled it at a wall, years ago. When she’d been thinking about _him_. 

His name in her phone is still O. O, and a little purple space invader emoji. A woefully appropriate choice, considering who he turned out to be. 

She sighs, prodding at the screen. The crack in it bisects the space invader, and she’s tired of staring into those little wonky black eyes. So she deletes the emoji. And then she deletes ‘O’, too, and replaces it with ‘Master’. Then ‘The Master’, and then, after a full minute of conflicted staring, ‘Koschei’. 

Since the last time they met, she’s been feeling surprisingly charitable about him. He’d seemed to genuinely enjoy her company, and he’d even been kind of nice. And then there had been the _kiss_. She hasn’t really done kissing much, in this body. But the Master still fits against her like they’d been made for each other, just the same way that he always does. 

It takes the Doctor a full three minutes of mentally talking herself into it before she presses the call button. She switches the phone into speaker mode and throws it towards the end of her bed, not trusting herself not to immediately hang up if it’s within her grasp. 

One ring. Two. Three. Four rings exactly, and then a quiet _click_. 

“Doctor?” His voice is as soft and smooth as velvet, surprisingly gentle considering it’s her name that he’s saying, and it sends a shiver down her spine. 

“Master,” she says back, shoving her hands under her arms and leaning over the phone so that she can speak quietly. “Hi.” 

“Well, this _is_ an unexpected pleasure.” She hears a soft chuckle, and then a pleased sigh, and the faint sound of creaking leather. Closing her eyes, she can picture him perfectly. Sat in some grand library on his TARDIS, by a fireplace, jacket slung over the side of an old armchair. He’s probably drinking something as he reads. His older selves would have been smoking, too, but she’s pretty sure he’s long since stopped that. 

“It’s a pleasure now, is it?” Cautiously, the Doctor picks up her phone again. She can’t sit still for this- she needs to pace. “Last we met, you said you weren’t ready for me.” 

“And I invited you to call me, dear, which is an offer I’m very glad you took me up on. Even if it’s been three months.” 

Had it been that long? Oops. She’d ended up rather busy with Yaz; they’d had some good times, lately. Lots of proper world-saving stuff, most of it going remarkably well. “I do have a life outside of you,” the Doctor says, echoing the words he’d teased her with last time. 

“Mm, I know,” the Master hums. “How is Yasmin? I do hope she’s over me. We had quite the spark when we first met, or so I thought...” 

“Oh, get over yourself.” The Doctor rolls her eyes. “She’s actually on a date right now. With an actual real human woman, not a Time Lord pretending to be one. That’s why I’m here on my own.” 

“So you called me up because you were lonely? In need of some phone sex to pass the time? I’ll start. I’m wearing a red shirt, it’s about the same colour as the wine I’ve been drinking. Bet you’d be able to taste it on my lips, if you—“

“That is _not_ why I called you,” the Doctor says hastily. Privately, she reflects that it’s a very good thing that phone calls don’t come with a visual link, or else his shirt and the wine wouldn’t be the only red things in sight. Her cheeks are _burning_. 

“Shame. I’m sat here feeling _very_ relaxed, could slip out of these clothes so easily...” 

“Koschei! Stop it!” She stops pacing, and tries to fold her arms sternly, but it’s less effective when she only has one free arm to fold and he can’t see her anyway. “Look- I called you because I wanted to talk. Just talk! Nothing more than that. Please, can we talk?” 

“Depends. About what? Make it something fun, and you’ve got my attention all day...” His voice is sinfully low in her ear. She wonders if he’s a bit drunk. Wine ought not to do much for a Time Lord, but after a few glasses, a little bit of tipsiness can start to set in. 

“I...wanted to ask if you were okay.” The words come out in a slightly sheepish mumble. It’s hard to ask. The Doctor isn’t used to showing such concern for _anyone_ , these days, especially not after so many decades stuck in prison with almost no one to talk to. She’s trying to get better with asking after Yaz’s wellbeing, but the Master is a different ball game entirely. He might _laugh_ at her. 

“Pardon?” 

Or, he could just not hear her. 

“I wanted to ask if you were okay!” Entirely unintentionally, she practically yells that into the phone. 

There’s a few moments of silence. Enough to make the Doctor think that he’s hung up on her, but just before she’s about to check, he speaks again. 

“Well, my ear’s ringing because you _shouted_ into it. Aside from that, I’m okay. Why, should I not be?” There’s a little too much lightness in his tone, a forded snideness that sets off a million alarm bells in the Doctor’s head. 

“You don’t have to be okay,” she says quietly. “It’s okay to be sad.” She remembers Yaz’s voice shaking slightly as she’d given that same advice, the day of the prison escape and the Dalek invasion. The Doctor isn’t sure if she’s internalised it very well, but perhaps the Master will appreciate it. 

“I’m not sad,” he says tersely. He lets out a heavy sigh, and she hears it in a rush of static over the phone. “Look. All that time you were in prison, I kept checking on you. It- it hasn’t been quite as long for me as it was for you, but it’s been a while. I couldn’t get in. I couldn’t get you out. But I could make sure you were alive and not hurt.” 

“Oh.” That’s all the response she can muster, really. She’s...not sure what to make of it. 

“All that time,” the Master continues. “And Timeless Child or not, you were as helpless as anyone else in there. I watched you try to escape. I watched you learn the cycles of the prison and try and run, or dig out, or hide, and I watched them shock you and drag you back to your cell in chains, over and over again. I saw them hurt you, and it made me want to burn that entire prison out of existence, and that’s- that’s not the reaction of someone who hates you. I care. I’ve always cared, and I’ve had long enough to realise that there’s nothing I can do about it.” 

The Doctor is silent. That’s probably the closest thing to emotional maturity that she’s heard from the Master since they were both in their previous bodies. She kind of wants to hold his hand, which is...probably an odd reaction. 

“Koschei,” she tries, and then realises that she doesn’t actually know what to say. Well, she’s started now. Might as well try and stumble through a response. “I’ve been so _tired_...” 

Not quite what she’d wanted. 

“Theta?” There’s genuine concern in the Master’s voice, and her hearts ache to hear it. It still stings her, still makes her long for home, whenever he uses her name. 

“I’m...I barely knew who I was, for so long. After the Timel...after what you told me. And then prison, I was just a number on a jumpsuit, I had nothing to do, for- _decades_. So many years. And then the Daleks. I decided, right- if I’m the Doctor, I fight the Daleks. But that’s stupid, that doesn’t work, and I kept- with Yaz, I kept trying to base my identity around different things, and it never worked, until...until you.” She bites her lip, hand shaking as it holds the phone. “At that party. I came away from that feeling like myself. And it’s lasted. Like seeing you clicked something back into place. And I’m so tired of fighting with you, Kosch, can’t we just be friends? Proper friends?” 

The Master lets out another breath. In the background, she can hear a faint ringing note, the sound produced by someone trailing their finger repeatedly around the rim of a glass. “Nothing would make me happier. Don’t- please don’t ask me to travel with you. But this...being your friend thing, that...I want to try that. Except for just one thing.” 

“What?” The Doctor frowns. 

“I really can’t stop thinking about how good it would feel to kiss you again.” His voice is low, but genuine, not that affected purr he’d been putting on to tease her earlier. 

She licks her lips, and makes a decision. “Send me your coordinates and clear a space in your console room,” she orders. After the conversation they’ve just had, she doesn’t know if she’ll have the courage to actually kiss him. But she has to see him, at least. 

The Master breathes a shaky sigh, and hangs up. A moment later, the Doctor’s phone buzzes- coordinates. She jumps up out of bed, running to the console room before she can change her mind, and plugs her phone into the navigation systems. 

Her ship rumbles a quiet warning to her, and she rests a comforting hand on the console. “I know, darling. But I really think he’s changed. I...well, I don’t know that I _trust_ him. But I know when he’s lying to me.” 

The TARDIS seems to accept that. She lets the Doctor take off, and one bone-rattlingly chaotic trip later, they land. 

It’s oddly nerve-wracking to walk towards the door. The Doctor smooths down her hair, adjusts a crooked suspender- she wants to look her best. She also shoves one hand in her pocket and curls it around her sonic, just in case. 

And then she opens the door. 

The Master’s console room is a thing of beauty; all purple and red and softly glowing lights, his central console augmented with a dozen holo-screens and an array of wooden levers and polished bronze buttons. It’s an odd combination of Victorian and space-age, and it suits him perfectly. 

“You nearly squashed my chair,” a voice says from behind her. The Doctor jumps, spins around, and- and there he is. Dressed in a deep red shirt and his usual waistcoat, minus the purple jacket. His hair is still longer than she’s used to, and he’s wearing... _reading glasses_? They’re round, with thin frames, and they make him look wide-eyed and almost innocent. 

Well, that’s just not fair. 

It’s not until she’s been standing and staring for several seconds that the Doctor realises she hasn’t said anything to him yet, and that’s very unlike her. 

“Um.” Oh, great start. “Glasses, Kosch?” 

He blinks, surprised, and then reaches to touch the bridge of his nose. “Oh. I was reading. And...drinking. Forgot I had them on.” The Master twitches one hand as if to reach up and remove them, and then seems to think better of it. Good. She likes the way they look on him. 

“They suit you,” she says carefully. “Make you look...um...nice.” Flirting is hard in person, if that’s what she’s even trying to do. She’s not sure. 

The Master steps closer to her- close enough to touch, and then he reaches out and does just that. He takes one of her hands, and the Doctor can only stare, and _blush_ , as he kisses each of her fingers in turn. His lips are so soft, so gentle; she _knows_ how unpredictably violent he can be, and it thrills her to see him so calm and deliberate. 

“I missed you,” he says softly. “Three months it took you to call, and I kept away. Didn’t know if what happened at the party had been...fun for you, or if it was just some reminder of how much you hated me.” The Master digs in his pocket- he pulls out a circuit board dotted with lights. It’s the exact same one she’d told him to steal from underneath the Wanderer’s Heart. “This is completely useless. But I kept it. Kept it in my pocket. Because that night was- it was _fun_ , Theta. I haven’t felt that happy in years. And this whole time, I’ve just been thinking, and thinking- I want you. I’ve missed having you in my life. Whenever your humans aren’t around- I want to sneak into parties or take down corporations with you. Or- or I just want to lie in bed and kiss you until I can’t think.” 

Oh, that’s just too much, in the best way possible. The Doctor drinks in those heady words, savours them, and finds herself completely unable to respond. She surges closer, spins the Master around and shoves him up against the wall of her TARDIS, and then she kisses him. 

There’s a lot that can be said with a kiss. _Sorry_ , for one thing. _I love you_ , for another. _I’ve always loved you and I’m so ridiculously glad that you want to be friends because I’ve missed you desperately and I really treasure our relationship_ is perhaps less commonly said with a kiss, but it’s the best way that the Doctor can manage to put it right now. 

She’s out of breath when she finally breaks away. The Master’s wrists are in her hands, pinned up against the TARDIS, and she’s not entirely sure when that happened but he doesn’t appear to be complaining. His glasses are a little askew, his pupils are blown wide, and he’s breathing hard. 

“Oh,” he says. “Oh, that’s _so_ much better when we aren’t being chased by security guards.” 

“Tell me about it,” the Doctor agrees, and she goes in to do it all over again. She feels like she could get drunk off of nothing more than the taste of wine on his lips. As much as she wants to keep his wrists pinned, she wants to touch him _more_ , so she does- one hand curls tight into that gorgeous hair, the other smooths over his chest, his side, needing to feel that he’s _real_. 

For his part, he immediately clings to her, arms around her shoulders and one leg hooking around her waist. The Doctor feels secure, but not trapped, and it’s _wonderful_. Every last sparkling second of this is wonderful. She wants to stop time, wants to press so close to the Master that it hurts, wants to make her mark on every inch of him. 

But respiratory bypass isn’t particularly comfortable, so she has to pull away eventually. She rests her head on the Master’s shoulder, leaning against him with all of her weight. She’s getting better about touching other people, but he still feels the most like home. 

“Doctor,” he murmurs eventually. “Theta. This is amazing, don’t get me wrong, but the panels on your ship are digging into my back.” 

She pulls away quickly, and has the grace to at least try and look sheepish. “Sorry. You, ah... I liked that.” 

“I could tell.” The Master grins in a way that feels dirtier than it should, and just a little bit secretive- it’s a smile that the Doctor remembers all too well from their childhood, and she _adores_ it. 

“So.” She sticks her hands in her pockets, shifting in a way that makes her coat swirl gently around her. She likes the weight of it, feels like she needs to fidget right now or else she’s going to combust. “No more evil schemes to get my attention, huh?” 

“I think I have more fun ways to get your attention now.” The Master is very obviously staring at her lips. She...really doesn’t mind, actually. 

“You’re not wrong.” The Doctor digs in her pocket until she finds a puzzle cube, and starts trying to solve it one-handed and without looking. “So- we have an arrangement? Spend time together when Yaz is busy? And I might- I might call you sometimes when she’s off sleeping. Humans do a lot of that.” 

“Sounds perfect.” The Master takes a step towards her; presses their lips together for just a moment. “So- Yasmin’s busy now, and we have time to ourselves...however could we occupy ourselves, my _dear_ Theta?” 

The Doctor laughs, and kisses him, letting herself lean back against his ship’s console and _enjoy_ it. She’s smiling when she pulls back, one hand hooked around his waist. “Oh, I can think of a few things we could do...”

The Master leans in, lowering his voice to a purr. “Do tell.” 

She presses close as well, lips barely grazing over his ear. “There’s a planet called Miraz, out in the far reaches of the Scorpion Galaxy. The native people have been under the thumb of some _really_ nasty invaders for five years now, and I could totally use an incredibly pretty, incredibly charismatic helping hand to start a revolution.” 

It’s not at all what he’d been expecting to hear, the Doctor is sure, but when she pulls back, the Master is smiling anyway; his eyes are glittering at the promise of getting to cause some chaos. “It would be my _honour_ to help, love.” 

“Perfect.” The Doctor grins, unable to resist the chance to tease. “And then if you do a _really_ good job, there’s this whole long list of really filthy things I’d like to do to you afterwards. But we gotta start the revolution first before I tell you what they are.” 

The Master laughs, and reaches behind her to pull a lever that makes the central console light up with a hundred glowing colours. “Just tell me where to go, and I’m all yours.” 

_All hers_. 

Oh, she likes the sound of that. 

**Author's Note:**

> I just Had to write a sequel to my last fic where they actually get to talk, so I hope you enjoyed it- comments and kudos are greatly appreciated <3


End file.
